Sent Me Flying
by elitemassacre6
Summary: Sometimes, when she's alone, Santana wonders how her curiosity towards a certain short-statured, often highly opiniated, and always beautiful brunette has gone unnoticed.
1. Chapter 1

Sometimes, when she's alone; Santana wonders how her curiosity towards a certain short-statured, often highly opiniated, and always beautiful brunette has gone unnoticed. She almost can't believe it really. She _is_ alone a lot. All the time really, now that her best friend has taken her heart and crushed it under her heel. That's not to say that she herself is still so freshly broken over it. Occasionally she wonders if that's because she wasn't as in love as she thought she was, or if it has more to do with the fact that after the life Santana's had up to this point, it isn't so easy to tear her down. No matter that it sometimes feels like people are trying pretty hard to do exactly that.

Regardless, she only thinks about it so much because Quinn spends so much fucking time watching Rachel and anyone else who pays a large amount of attention to her. It never used to bother her, but now she's starting to be annoyed by the fact that Quinn acts like she owns Rachel in her own way, without ever doing anything about it. She treats the star exactly the same way Finn tends to. Like a toy she doesn't want to play with right now but that belongs to her regardless.

She doesn't know what it is about the Inn's (Finn and Quinn) that makes them treat human beings like disposable inanimate objects but Santana Lopez is not a fan of it at all. God knows she isn't an angel, but the Latina at least made sure to treat people like people. Now that she thought of it though, Rachel might disagree given her antagonistic tendencies towards the younger girl but she'd been changing...or you know...trying to. She was positive that counted for something.

Her growing contempt for Quinn and infatuation with Rachel came to a head one late Friday afternoon in early April. The whole club was in the auditorium after Puck and Sam had performed some Springsteen for that week's stupid whiteboard assignment of songs with USA in the title. Their so called teacher was seriously stretching it.

"That was great, guys. I was really impressed with your energy in that performance, both of you."

"The Puckasaurus has got bottomless energy. Stamina, bro, stamina." The Latina rolled her eyes but didn't dispute his accurate claims, waving her hand for Mr. Shue to keep it rolling.

"Anyway guys that was the last performance for this assignment and I think you all were amazing. I've got another exciting assignment for next week starting Monday and I thought if I gave it to you now you could all get started working on it!" Santana barely heard the low, grumbly growl that emanated from their star performer, looking down one row below her to notice the way the girl's grip on her armrests turned her fingers just barely white at their tips.

"Mr. Shuester don't you think it's inappropriate for us to continue with these assignments? I think they're as fun as everyone else does but we're a month and a quarter away from Nationals and we've yet to even discuss song choices, choreography, or anything at all important. This is important, this is a nationwide competition featuring talent far beyond what we've yet to face. We need to discuss these things if we hope to win against teams who have no doubt been preparing since they received word that they would be heading to New York for the competition. I've mentioned this before and you dismissed it but we've no more time to waste singing Queen songs and Motown classics." When the beautiful girl paused to lean back in her chair, Santana clapped for her pointedly before leaning down to give a quick but gentle squeeze to Rachel's shoulder.

"I totally agree. She's right. If any of us know exactly what we should we be doing up to this kind of competition it's Rachel. I mean she's won more singing, dancing, and acting trophies than Sue has in her trophy room." She looked around, showing her poker face to Quinn when the blonde looked over at her, raising her trademark eyebrow. Shuester went to speak but was interrupted by a pissed off looking Mercedes who stood up and crossed her arms over her chest.

"I disagree. Rachel only wants us to hurry with deciding what we'll do so she can weasel her way into the solo spot once again. And she's wrong anyway, we have almost two months not a month and a quarter."

"Rachel meant that a performance should be done and perfected at least two to three weeks before the showing itself." Santana spoke up again, nodding a little when Rachel turned around and curved her lips just enough for the Latina to count it as a smile. She nodded at the shorter brunette, setting herself back into her seat, ready to defend the star against anyone else who said some stupid shit. She didn't miss the glare aimed her way from the blonde who sat at least ten seats over, hazel eyes shifting between the two brunettes as if looking for something that wasn't there.

"Guys, we'll get to that, this club isn't just about winning, it's about us having fun too. For example, singing Queen songs for next week and Motown classics the week after." Rachel just rolled her eyes.

"What mister Shue said. You shouldn't be so excited for Nationals anyway. I'm getting that solo. I already talked to him about it. And hell... you aren't as good as you think you are anyway, toucan Sam." Santana's eyes went wide and she looked over at Quinn, waiting for her to say...something...to defend the person she obviously thought of as hers. When the blonde did nothing she gripped her hands into fists, hopping over the empty seat next to Rachel's to stand behind the girl.

"Honestly, Berry she's right on all counts. You aren't as good as you think you are." The Latina standing behind the shorter brunette heard something that sounded vaguely like a growl rise up from her own throat, stepping closer to her girl and laying her palm against the small of her back as a sign of support. If Quinn wouldn't defend and support her, she sure as hell would.

"Oh fuck you, tubbers! Rachel's beyond good. Hell, you wouldn't know phenomenal...which she is.. if it bit you on your stretch mark covered white ass." Santana could feel Rachel flinch just the slightest bit as her comment filled the air around them, and she really couldn't figure out why.

"If Rachel Berry is phenomenal I'm Beyonce." Mercedes spit out.

"Yeah...well if I'm not as talented as I think I am then you aren't a self important, lazy, overweight, tator tot addicted piece of fucking shit with a superiority complex." The entirety of the auditorium went quiet for a few long seconds, everyone's eyes as wide as they had ever been. Santana removed her hand from Rachel's back and slid it into her smaller one. She was well aware of how much the girl would begin to probably regret the words as soon as they left her perfect lips. Hurting people wasn't her thing.

"Oh, shit." Puck said, shaking his head in his disbelief that his Jewish american princess had just said that. She was never one to give as good as she got in the insult department. Walking away and taking the highroad was literally her motto.

"Rachel that was completely unnecessary. Bullying someone about their body or anything else is not okay in this club. Apologize to Mercedes now and then...then I think you should report to Figgins." Santana's mouth dropped open. This asshole...

"What?" Puck questioned, this dude had to be kidding.

"No, you know what, fuck that. You sack of-" Rachel squeezed her hand to cut her off, turning one of the meanest glares the Latina had ever seen on Quinn, Mercedes, and then Mr Shue.

"Let me attempt to understand the situation clearly here. Mercedes the whiner and Quinn the bitch can both insult me, my nose, my talent, and whatever else they so choose, and it's fine. But when I return their abhorrent behavior it is called bullying? It's something worth being sent to the useless excuse of a principle for? You know what William Shuester...You can fuck off and stick her apology up your ass for all I care. I. Fucking. Quit. I hope all three of you get what you truly deserve." Rachel made to leave in her classic storm out, only realizing when she turned to pass Santana that their hands were still linked. She looked down at them, smiled wryly for a moment, before pulling her hand free walking into the aisle.

"Wait, i'm sorry, Ru Paul what did you just call me?" Quinn stood up as if finally noticing that she'd been insulted. Shuester said nothing about the insult that still seemed to fall so easily from the former head Cheerio's lips as she approached the smaller girl. The brunette turned around and smiled in a frighteningly painful way that Santana had never seen before, the star catching her eyes for a fleeting moment before she stared up at Quinn with no fear in her auburn eyes.

"I said, Quinn Fabray, that you are a self involved, sadistic, hard to love, uncaring, hollow, using bitch!" Rachel turned again to leave but the blonde put a hand on her shoulder to try to twist her back around. Rachel resisted and Santana approached, crossing around to be standing just a couple feet away from them, her eyes locking once again with the former glee captain.

"Hard to love? that's funny coming from you, you fucking troll! Who could ever love you?!" Rachel seemed to almost break, tears starting to fall from her eyes for the few seconds before she turned around and connected her open palm with the blonde's face in a seriously effective slap. Quinn fell immediately, knocked out of balance with that one scarily accurate slap that hit just under her temple.

"Fuck you Quinn! Fuck you!" Rachel stormed her way out of the auditorium, seeming to be barely holding it together. Santana wasted only a few seconds looking down at Quinn before she ran after the Jewish girl, sprinting up to the second floor girl's bathroom she knew the girl would be in. She got there and slapped her hand against the door just as Rachel was about to close and probably lock it as well.

"Hey. Rachel wait. Let me in, please. For reals I just want to help." The silent brunette just opens the door wider without saying anything, shutting and locking it behind them both. She wipes her wet cheeks with her sleeve for a minute or so before turning around. Santana is already waiting there with soft eyes and some of those wet make up remover wipes and steps closer, very gently gripping where her girl's jaw meets her neck and reaches up with the opposite hand, starting to clean away the running mascara and ruined eyeliner. The whole eye deal was definitely a new look Rachel was trying out and even though she looked just as beautiful as Santana wiped it all away it had looked amazing on her, bringing a sharp new focus to her auburn eyes.

"I'm um...I'm really sorry about what happened in there. You were totes right about us needed to stop fucking around and get down to business for nationals like ages ago. I just don't think he understands how much we all want to win. To like, I don't know have validation for all the shit we've gone through, all the shit we've all sacrificed for the club. Losing sometimes makes it feel like it's all for nothing. Plus I know some of them, like Kurt, Artie, and Tina have never really won anything like this so it's a huge deal for them. And really Rachel I honestly think he didn't mind them saying that shit to you because he somehow hoped maybe they would put you down enough to get you to be less vocal about the reality of our situation and about the club in general. He obviously doesn't know you at all. Rachel Berry don't take shit lying down unless she's taking the high road, right?"

The Latina tossed the first wipe and grabbed another, switching hands to clean the right side of Rachel's face. The smaller girl had her eyes closed and had been silent since they'd both left the auditorium.

"I know you're not okay . So I won't ask you that. What happened with Quinn was beyond fucked up and I'm just starting to realize that it probably affected you more than I thought it would've. Quinn has always acted like she thought you were hers and I used to think that was just her being her normal arrogant self. Until today. Today I'm thinking maybe you have been hers all along. And maybe you love her. I think you were sure she loved you. I don't know if she ever said it or if you just knew... But, yeah." The tears were falling again and Santana longed to be the sap she really was and kiss them away but she settled for wet paper towel instead.

"I don't mean to hurt you by bringing all this up again but I just think it's important that you know that she was wrong. You are so completely worth the love of anyone who's smart enough to really look at you. Not just because you're really pretty but beyond that.. Like into your heart or you know... Whatever. So, yeah... You're lovable." The clear faced brunette finally opened her eyes, displaying that startling color somewhere between red and brown."

"Santana... Who are you today? Who have you been for the last two months?". The Puerto Rican shook her head, finally starting away to put some space between them.

"As far as you are concerned I'm really no one. As far as I know I'm still who I've been. Still Santana Anita Lopez. And anyway I don't matter. I just wanted you to know the truth. Anything else you need? Because I would fucking love to go kick Mercedes' ass for you."

"I could do that myself. And what are you insinuating? That I'm too conceited to be concerned about other people? I'll have you know that I am in fact concerned about other individuals." The Latina nodded, stuffing her hands into her pockets. She honestly did not know what to do with them. With everyone else they crossed her chest defensively. She was usually touching Brittany. Or, at least that's how it used to be. She couldn't touch the girl in front of her like she wanted to, so in her pockets would have to suffice.

"Yeah, I'm under that impression. And that's not what I meant. I was saying that you're in pain right now and I'm here to help you, not the other way around. I mean that I'm not important right now... You are. So whatever you need I'll take care of it. Like for example...I can go fetch you some of that dairy free mocha ice cream you like and we can put on and watch Dr who or fringe, or the x files. And I'll order pizza from Giovanni's for dinner. I fucking know I'm going to need to try and forget the fact that I just quit what was usually my favorite part of the day.". Santana swore being around Rachel had her speaking in super long paragraphs.

"What do you mean? I quit, not you."

"Uh, yeah I did. That was the point of me running out of the auditorium after you did that cute diva storm out thing you do whenever Shue pisses you off enough."

"What do you want from me really? Whatever this is that you're doing or trying to do right now, I need you to stop please. Supporting and defending me in there, assisting me in here... Offering to acquire my favorite foods, these are things that friends do. If this is your way of insinuating you want that with me through actions and not words I am not opposed. But I need some time to process everything that just occurred. Maybe...maybe we can arrange to have the pizza you offered at a later date. You know, after I go through the obligatory 'I just went through a breakup' grieving process." The excited smile she'd been wearing slipped from Santana's lips and she shrugged, nodding along as Rachel let her down easy.

"No, yeah I totally understand. I'll just um... I'll go. I'm sorry about what happened with Q, I hope you'll be okay." She gazed into those auburn eyes once more before walking around the girl they belonged to and exiting the bathroom. God, nothing hurt like rejection. Even, and sometimes especially, when it was soft handed.


	2. Chapter 2

God, she felt so pathetic. Santana had spent her entire weekend in bed watching sappy movies and pigging out on ridiculous amounts of popcorn, maybe even crying into her pillows a little, though she'd deny the hell out of it if her Abuela asked her about it again. It was true that her grandmother, Elma, was the one person she felt safe telling essentially everything to. Everything including this. She didn't doubt for a second that her parents would abandon her if they ever knew she was gay, but Alma Lopez was different. She was Santana's greatest supporter. Her only supporter.

Anyway, to be honest she was a little afraid of seeing either Rachel or the three complete assholes that had made the star cry just three days ago. She wasn't entirely sure she would be able to keep Snixx on her already short leash around those three pendejos. And Santana had no idea how she would deal with seeing Rachel in the three classes they shared together today. Maybe avoiding her would be the best bet.

The last thing she wanted was for her hobbit to see that recently ever present sadness in her eyes and draw conclusions she wasn't ready for anyone to reach.

Anyway, like Abuela always told her she could focus on school. Maybe Santana could even switch her free period for a sculpture class at the Lima community college. With her grades she was sure Ms. Pillsbury would be cool letting her do it. It had been months since she'd shown anyone anything she was making in her abuelo's glass studio.

Yea, she could do that. In fact maybe she could completely disregard everything her Parents demanded of her and focus on her art as a career. It was worth thinking about later, when she wasn't in the process of an important ap calc exam. Thankfully this was one of the two classes today that she didn't share with Rachel Berry.

In ten minutes class would be over though, and she'd be sitting down for two hours of ap anatomy with Rachel in the seat next to her. She didn't even want to think about the fact that she knew there'd be a sub, and therefore a stupid video for them to watch. So she'd spend two hours doing nothing but wishing she hadn't been so stupid and hasty in deciding to take the vacant seat next to Rachel two weeks ago.

Now, despite the fact that she still wanted to be as close to the star as possible, she didn't want to look up and have Rachel just dismiss her again. God, that had felt like every missed birthday and uninterested hum her parents had ever given her.

And as much as she knew she deserved this kind of treatment from a long list of people (with Rachel at the top), Santana could not help but realize how much it hurt because it was Rachel. She felt so...dispensable. Like she was just this peripheral person existing on the barren outskirts of people's lives.

And sometimes she wondered...would anyone even notice if she disappeared tomorrow? And if they did, would they care? Would they celebrate? Thanking god that she finally got rid of herself the way they had always wanted to?

It wasn't like she thought about killing herself or something. Well, you know, not often. Just when her parents or even Brittany made her feel like it would be so much better if she weren't around.

Don't get her wrong, Brittany would never tell her she wished she weren't around. Not intentionally. It was just something she said a week or so after Santana had told her that she loved her.

()

"Britt please, just break up with Artie, I love you. I wanna be with you. I don't even care about hiding anymore. If you want us to tell everyone in the whole fucking town that I love you with all my heart I will. Just...be with me, baby, please." The blonde just bit down on her lip and frowned, fidgeting on her feet. It did nothing to ease the worry that Santana couldn't get a hold on.

"I just don't know, San. I got with him to make you jealous but I love him too, I told you that. And he feels the same way. And...and he gets insecure about the way I feel about him because of our history and the way you tricked me into cheating on him with you. I wish this had never gotten so complicated. I wish I didn't have to choose."

"The problem, B, is that by not choosing at all you are choosing him. Fine. I just...I really hope he makes you happy, B. I really want that for you."

"He does." At that, Santana walked away, a few random kids looking surprised at the tears that were clearly visible falling down her cheeks. Britt wished it wasn't so complicated? Then she would remove herself from the equation. Her father had always said she was too complicated, too much to deal with. A handful. And her favorite, not worth the trouble. So she could get why Britt didn't want her around anymore. No one did.

()

The only person now who didn't make her feel that way was her abuela. Her abuela, who had found her that night with a crimson stained pocket knife in one limp hand and blood leaking from the long vertical cut she'd made into the skin of the opposite wrist. Thankfully, it wasn't very deep, but when she'd awoken, the old Puerto Rican woman had looked at her like she'd tried to steal her prized possession.

For months afterward she would walk past her Abuela's room at night and hear her praying to Jesus to please save her Santanita. She had stopped hearing it, but she didn't think her grandmother had stopped doing it. After all, she hadn't stopped praying for herself.

The ringing of a bell brought her out of her head and Santana looked up to find the whole class fleeing through the door, leaving her behind to stand, gather her stuff, and then walk up to her teacher Mrs. Yates. The kind woman took her test and set it on top of her grading pile, giving the Latina a worried look.

"Are you okay Santana? I know you, so I know it didn't affect your test, but you were completely in your own mind for half of the class." The brunette just shrugged, she wasn't positive telling her teacher what had her in such a melancholy mood wouldn't lead to horrible things.

"I'm just...not having the best day. But thank you for asking. You're the only teacher that ever does. I appreciate that you even care at all. I dont want to be late for my anatomy class, it's on the other side of the school, so I'll see you Wednesday Mrs. Yates. Bye." Santana left before anything else could be said, slipping through the hallways quick and unnoticed. She made it almost all the way to her classroom before the trouble found her in the form of one Quinn Fabray shoulder checking her hard as she turned a corner.

"The fuck is wrong with you, Bitch. Shit that hurt. Don't touch me again." The blonde's eyes were staring right into hers and that possessive fire was back behind them, but Santana paid it no mind, trying to walk past the psycho blonde and into her class.

"No, _you_ don't touch _her_. She's _mine_." Santana scoffed, pushing the bigger girl out of her personal space.

"Funny you say that, because last time I checked it's illegal to own people in this country. Not to mention I'm pretty sure you ruined any chance of her wanting to be yours anymore after what you said yesterday. I mean, what is _wrong_ with you? You and I both know she thinks that about herself, how could you reinforce that fear for her? Some kind of girlfriend you were. Now move. I have class asshole.

Quinn looked almost sad and remorseful for a second before she turned and walked away, but Santana believed it must have been a trick of the light. She walked into class and sat down at her seat which happened to be the only one available.

Rachel was busy pulling out her notes and the homework, so the Latina did the same, putting everything on her half of the desk and scooting her chair as far away as possible without ending up in the aisle. The sound made the shorter girl look up, head tilted in her confusion.

"Did you just move away from me?" Santana just nodded, tapping the eraser end of a pencil against her jean covered thigh.

"I don't understand? Why would you do that? I know I said I wanted space Friday, but I diidn't mean for you to change how things already were."

"You didn't ask for space, you rejected me. Just...really politely. Rachel Berry rejection. You're the master of letting someone down easy." Rachel frowned, her brows furrowing above those gorgeous eyes of hers.

"I think I'd remember If I'd rejected you...or rather your petition for a possible friendship."

"Yea, well that's what people mean when they say maybe later." She said, deep frown on her lips.

"It's not what I mean, Santana. I really did mean later. As in this weekend or the next."

"Oh..."

"Yes, oh. And they call me the dramatic one." She smiled softly at Santana, poking her shoulder childishly and pulling her chair closer with her in it.

"You are the dramatic one. It's cute." She admitted, sighing out her giddiness. Rachel didn't hate her. She hadn't rejected her. That felt...it felt good. They were going to have pizza together.


End file.
